The fun never stopped
by lxlynda
Summary: -A few years after Paul and Peter kill Anne and her family, they have another particularly fun round with a new family, the Curtises. POV of the oldest kid, Ethan.*story on hold*
1. Chapter 1

"Excuse me, but I was wondering if I could possibly borrow some eggs?" An awkward looking polite guy asked me.

I eyed him suspiciously- I saw him and another preppy looking guy on the drive to these, expensive rental summer houses. They were with friends of my dad's, the Loreans, but no one knew who they were exactly.

"_Why_ do you need the eggs, if I _may_ ask?" I questioned. I had a bad feeling about him- he was a little _too_ polite.

He smiled at me, which I shivered at- I don't need another dude giving me a creeper smile. "Oh, right, sorry. I was sent here by Mrs. Lorean- she said that she needed them for something."

I squint at him. _Sure she did_. "Alright, "I say, not wanting to be too rude to the guy. As long as he was here for a damn good reason- I was in the middle of emailing my girlfriend back home. I let the guy in and head to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for him moving. He followed me slowly and quietly, his footsteps barely noticeable.

There wasn't much eggs in the carton so I asked him how many. He said only four.

"Wow, you lucked out. There's _exactly_ four in here."

"Great." He smiled at me again_. Eww._

I gave him the eggs and showed him back to the door, though he didn't leave immediately.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Peter."

The guy reached out to shake my hand and, since I really jut wanted to get back to doing what I was previously occupied with, I shook it. "Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Ethan."

As Peter shook my hand back, he dropped the egg carton on the floor, allowing several to crack and spill their contents all over the carpet.

"Aw, shit!" I exclaimed. _Mom'll freak when she sees a yoke stain on the carpet!_

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Peter said apologetically. "Would you like some help?"

I sighed. "No, I'll just do it by myself. But we don't have any more eggs." There was a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I shouted, a little rude, but I couldn't just get up and leave the eggs and some stranger in the middle of the house.

"Paul," Peter stated happily. Must be a friend.

The Paul person let himself in- it was the other guy I saw with the Loreans earlier.

"Hello," he says to me.

"Hi," I say not-too-enthusiastically. "Oh, yeah, y'know, it's cool, just let yourself in and all," I mumbled to myself as he casually looked around at all our things. _I hope they aren't thieves._

Paul walks up to me as I put the broken shells back in the carton and stand up. He puts a hand out to shake. _What's with these guys-who shakes hands any more?_

"Hi, I'm Paul."

I nod and say, "Ethan," back to him, then shake after rubbing the slimy fluid on my jeans.

He looked down, noticing the shattered eggs. "Are those the eggs?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, they're broken now, so I guess you don't want them any more…"

"Are there more?"

"No. That was it, sorry. Peter dropped them by accident."

He looked accusingly at Peter. "Ugh. I knew I should have come over myself, now look what you did, Tom. Mrs. Lorean will never get her eggs now."

"I'm sorry. They just slipped," the other answered quietly.

I looked confused at them. "Wait…did you just call him Tom? I thought his name was Peter?"

"That's what I called him," Paul lied smoothly.

"No, you didn't. You said Tom."

He chuckled lightly. "You don't believe me?"

"Hell no."

"Well, that's not very nice to say. We just met and you already think I'm a liar. That's not very nice, now, is it, Peter?"

"Not very nice, "Peter repeated softly, smiling again.

"Look, I don't care if I'm not being nice or whatever, but I know what you said, alright?" He looked extremely amused. _What is their deal? _"Look, man, if you're gonna' be a weirdo, go do it some where else- waste someone else's time, okay?" I quickly threw the eggs in the trash can and opened the door for them, gesturing with my hand for them to leave. "Come on now. I don't have time for your crap."

For a moment, Peter (or Tom, whoever the hell he was) and Paul looked at each other. Neither moved. That pissed me off.

I stride over to Peter, who was watching me like an injured pup. I try to take him to the door as an example for Paul.

As I was amidst tugging the man to the door, my parents came down with my little sister, Jamie, trotting down after them.

"Ethan, honey, what are you doing? Who are they?" My mother asked, pushing Jamie back.

"No one, Mom. They were just leaving."

Peter was trying to hold his ground, and since he was bigger than me, I couldn't move him very far.

Paul, on the other hand, went to greet my family like they were to be good friends. "Hello, I'm Paul. You must be Mr. Curtis."

My dad nodded, being a man of few words. "Do you boys need something?"

I glare at my father. "Dad!" He simply raised a hand to em and I stopped pulling at Peter's arm. I can't go against him.

"I just came for some eggs," Peter stated quietly. "Your son gave me some, but I broke them."

"Since when did it take _two_ people to run an errand?" My dad asks.

"I just came here to find my friend Tom over there," Paul pointed to Peter.

"Oh my _God_," I groan loudly. "Will you _stop it_?"

Paul looked innocently at me. "Stop what?"

"Dad!"

"Ethan, calm down. What has you so riled up?"

I run my hand over my face. "This guy," I point at Peter, "his name isn't Tom- he told me it was _Peter_! But this guy," I pointed at Paul, "keeps calling him _Tom_!"

Paul and my dad exchange looks. "He's been Tom since I can remember, sir," he says earnestly. _This dude's really rubbing me the wrong way!_

My dad is now confused- I can see it in his face. He knows I don't lie to him, but he doesn't know who's right.

My mom decides to step in now. "Um, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding boys, but maybe you should go."

"What misunderstanding, ma'am? I only came here for eggs," Peter pleaded.

Mom looked as though she _sympathized _with him. Jamie tried to wriggle past her to see what was going on.

I took action again, this time being _even more _forceful. "Well, too damn bad; _you broke them_, remember? Now get out or I'm calling the cops!" I threaten, pulling out my cell phone from my pocket.

Next thing I know, I'm tackled to the ground and my arm is twisted up in an awkward angle, making me drop the phone. I screamed out.


	2. Chapter 2

_I screamed out._

"Are you okay?" Peter asks over me _immediately after _attacking.

I gasp at the pain in my shoulder as I move my arm back down- my shoulder and my back were pounding. _Hell no I'm not okay!_

"Tubby, you can't go throwing _all your weight _on other people. Someone could get seriously hurt," Paul mused.

Peter helped me up, apologizing. "I'm sorry, but you can't call the police on guests. That's just plain rude." He is oblivious to my glares.

Mom, Dad and Jamie all rushed over to me. Peter and Paul stood back to watch. After confirming that I was only slightly injured, we all looked towards the extremely unwinding guest.

"What do you want? Why don't you just leave?" Dad asks on edge; now he begins to see why my gut tells me they are bad news.

"Why won't we _leave_?" Paul repeats. "We just got here. Come on, surely you wouldn't shove every guest through your door like this." We don't respond.

Peter sits down on the arm chair as Paul leans against the wall closet to us.

"All we want to do is play a game," Paul says slowly. "It's a fun game, I promise." He smiles at us expectantly. "Yes? Will you play?"

There was a moment of silence.

"What do you want us to do?" My father asks.

"So you will play, then?" Paul sounded…pleased.

Dad doesn't say anything. Mom sighs. "We will do whatever you want, just…_leave_, okay?"

Neither answer, but they both smile those polite little smirks. "That's awesome," Paul says. "Now let's begin with a formal introduction, shall we? Good evening. My name is Paul, and this is Peter." Peter waves at us, smiling.

He looks expectantly at us again. No one did anything.

"Come on, were you all raised in a _barn? What are your names_?"

Noticing Paul's face getting more and more angered, I tried to comply by giving him our names. "I'm Ethan. This is Jamie. That's our mother, Theresa, and our father, Philip," I answered with a dead edge to my voice..

I sigh and close my eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why are we doing this, Tubby," he calls out to Peter.

"I don't know," Peter says in his quiet voice. _How do you not know why you're doing this?_

Paul "tsked" him. "Now, Tubby, what kind of an example are you setting for these people by breaking the rules? You know why."

Peter moved his mouth to the side thoughtfully. It looked like he was thinking over whether or not to answer. "I don't want to talk about it."

We all watched Paul speak quietly to Peter, whose face grew red and eyes watery.

"Fine then, _I'll_ tell them." Paul turned to us now. "You see, Peter's father used to beat him- all the time, for little things. And his mother was a loose cannon. A different guy every night when his dad was at work." Peter was sobbing now, but Paul continued. "When they were done with his mom, they would sneak into his room and-"

"Shut up!" I screamed. Jamie was gripping my leg for dear life and crying. "You're scaring her," I stated, picking up my little sister.

Paul put on a concerned look. "If it's any consolation to you, everything I said wasn't true."

"Can you just…stop?" Mom asked.

"But your little soldier asked a question, ma'am, and every question deserves an answer."

"Please," she begged.

Paul smiled widely, clapping like Mom had a break through. "That's great. You know, the game is much easier when manners are involved. So what would you _like_ to hear?"

"The truth," Dad hissed through gritted teeth/

"Easy enough. Why are we _really_ here, Tom?"

Peter had stopped crying and was wiping his face with a handkerchief. "Because we can," he said with a chipper tone.

"Exactly," Paul praised, "_because we can_." He signaled for us to come into the living room and take seats. I sat next to Dad on the sofa with Jamie in my lap. Peter politely gave his seat to my mother and joined Paul to lean against the wall.

I wince as Jamie lets her head drop on to previously injured shoulder.

"Does it hurt badly? " Peter questioned quietly.

"I'll be fine." I didn't word it to come off as rude, but the way I said it was more like, "well, if some _fat_ guy didn't just _jump me _and _jack up _my shoulder, I'd be a lot better."

He goes on. "I'm sorry I had to hurt you, but you were going to call the cops on us. That wasn't very friendly of you, you must admit." I don't though; if I tell you to leave my house, you leave _or else_. Simple as that.

"You really shouldn't go throwing yourself on others, Tom," Paul says casually. "It could give others the wrong impression of us."

Peter laughed. "What's the problem if they'll end up dead anyway?"

"Tubby, that is so rude! "

"But it's true!"

"Well, either way, it's no excuse to forget manners."

My family and I listened to them bicker in silence. I could feel Jamie gradually relaxing on me; being relatively young, she took naps quite frequently during the day. I rubbed her back soothingly as she begins snoring softly.

This interrupted their conversation and Paul looked _rather_ surprised.

"You can't fall asleep in the game. Please wake her up."

"She's a little kid- she needs her sleep," I say on her behalf.

"She's an asset to your team. Believe me when I say I sympathize, but she must stay awake, otherwise well have to penalize her and you don't want that."

I looked incredulous at him. "_Penalize_ a five year old for sleeping? What's _wrong_ with you?"

"Oh, nothing really. It's just, those are the rules and where would modern civilization be without rules?"

"Anarchy," Peter answered.

"Exactly. Thank you, Tom."

"You're welcome, Jerry."

"We'd be in anarchy if we didn't follow the rules, Ethan. I can't bend them any more than you."

He signaled to Jamie and I reluctantly shook her awake.

"Hey, Tubby what time is it?"

Peter frowns. "Stop calling me Tubby." Paul rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "It's nine twenty-three," he says after checking his wrist watch.

Paul questions the statement, saying how time flies when you're having fun. "It's about time we place our bets, eh, Beavis?"

They both walked to the middle of the room like what they had to say would interest us.

"What bet," Dad questions, worry plastered on his face.

"Okay," Paul began. "We bet that in twelve hours, so about nine thirty, that you all will be..._dead_."

"What?" Mom breathes.


End file.
